


For All the Wrong (Right) Reasons

by JewelQueen



Series: A Drabble A Day! [10]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, James Rhodes Feels, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, POV James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Rhodey loves him anyway, Slow Build, Star Trek References, Tony Stark Feels, Tony is Italian, Tony is a nerd, mostly - Freeform, snapshots through the MCU, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 03:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11660592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JewelQueen/pseuds/JewelQueen
Summary: What happens when you get one Tony Stark flustered?  Well, if you're good-looking (and James Rhodes), he proposes.A story of ill-timed marriage proposals, white boys being angry white nerds, and the man who suffers through it all trying his best not to fall for this beautiful disaster in the making.





	For All the Wrong (Right) Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short thing, no more than 5,000 words...what can you do?
> 
> I'm not entirely sure where this came from anymore (combination of Rhodey feels and resurgence of Star Trek feels and my love of the 5&1 trope and inappropriate marriage proposals maybe??) but I hope you enjoy regardless.
> 
> The Italian comes from Google Translate, so blame Google.

The first time Tony proposed to him, it was literally the first time they had ever spoken to one another.

James was so desperate to get a real degree-- _any_ degree, he wasn’t picky on the major--and be the first person in his family to receive more than some unfinished college education, that he was willing to put up with almost anything to get it. And, given that the only thing he wanted more than his own degree was to fly, that left only a few avenues for someone like him: black, middle-class, basically first generation college student, good grades--but not good enough on their own for MIT-- and no sports scholarships waiting in the wings. If he didn’t have his heart set on MIT, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t need to apply for the Air Force ROTC program to cover the costs of tuition.

But, then again, if he didn’t have his heart set on flying hunks of junk through space, he wouldn’t have considered college at MIT either.

Either way, he was here now, barely eighteen and the freshest kind of meat there was for his fellow cadets. Naturally, hazing was going to be involved and James was prepared for this--he really was--nothing was going to stop him from getting his Master’s _and_ his pilot license. So when his “superiors” demanded respect from him, he gave respect; when they told him to jump, he jumped; when they spat names at him to rile him up, he didn’t let so much as a cheek muscle twitch.

Right now, he was playing ‘gopher’ for another senior cadet in the labs, standing silently as the cadet complained to their peers about the kid hogging the most desired equipment currently.

“The brat is such an asshole, ugh. Look at him, he’s about to pass out, but he’s such an entitled douchebag he thinks he can just…” they groaned, murmured assents from their friends filling in the space before they snapped their fingers at James. “Hey, you, Cadet Rhodes! Find a way to kick that kid out and I’ll make sure your ‘gopher’ runs are over for good,”

James jumped to attention at that, even though it was clearly a joke by the way the group was tittering. Only a _week_ of ‘gopher’ runs instead of the typical four? “Sir, yes sir!” he nearly saluted before dashing off.

He heard a lot about the kid despite never actually interacting with him: teen genius, so rich he’s practically royalty, big name father, attitude problems, you name it. But given the way he holed himself in the labs on science binges or whatever until he was very nearly passing out into a soldering iron, James thought a few more might fit: workaholic, low self-esteem, very bad at self-care. And being the big brother that he is, he has plenty of experience with younger kids who very much need a time-out imposed on them.

So he runs into a nearby cafe and buys a few assorted pastries and muffins to go with a deceptively sweet but basically caffeine-free drink. The sugar rush should put him down quick if he was as tired as he looked.

James knocks gently on the door to the lab once his pocket is significantly lighter and his hands heavier, but the poor kid startles badly enough to fumble with the soldering iron anyway. Confused, and definitely sleep-deprived judging by those bags under his eyes, he cracks the door open just enough to stick his head out suspiciously. “C’n I help you?”

James puts on his most kind brotherly smile and shakes his gifts lightly. “C’mon, kiddo, I think it’s time for a break,”

Predictably, the kid scowls darkly at that but snatches up the offered treats. “‘M not a kid,” he mutters, tearing open the bag and inspecting it thoroughly, drink set aside for now. “‘Sides, you’re not that much older’n me anyway, jerk,”

James snorts at that, mostly because it’s spoken by a twig of a person, a good several inches shorter and many pounds lighter than him. But, to be fair, he has been bulking up recently since getting accepted into the AFROTC.

The kid must have decided that he didn’t poison the food because he takes a big bite out of the chocolate chip muffin. “Anthony Stark,” he mumbles as he chews. “But you can call me Tony--no one calls me that ‘cept my parents and whenever I’m in trouble,”

“James Rhodes,” he returns, sticking his hand out to shake. The kid--Tony--takes it almost eagerly. “Do you get in trouble often?”

Tony eyes him up and down, hesitates a fraction of a second, and then- “Depends, I can see myself getting into all sorts of trouble with you, handsome,” he winks.

James laughs, because no way-- _no way_ \--did this tiny jailbait just proposition _him_. He almost misses the way Tony’s eyes go wide with wonderment as he takes his first sip of the drink.

“Marry me,” Tony blurts, startling himself this time as he fumbles with his food and drink. “I, uh, I mean--”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he winks back. “But you’re not really my type,” He doesn’t add any of the additional comments in his head because that would be too dangerous to admit out loud. It may be the eighties, but he also plans to be military for the next thirty or so years.

Tony’s face does some emotional gymnastics before settling into something vaguely amused-like as he cocks his head slightly. “White?” he asks, with a soft curl to his lips. “Because I am half-Italian, if that sweetens the pot for you,”

“Nah,” James says, shaking his head. “Rich,”

Tony’s brows furrow before his mind catches up and his nose scrunches as he guffaws loudly. James has to remind himself of the mission at hand.

“I like you, Rhodes. I’m going to keep you--even if I can’t marry you,” he adds with a smirk over his cup, cheerily entwining their arms as he practically skips his way out of the room. “C’mon, then, old man, put me to bed!”

James groans, because _of course_ he would decide to shout that just as they started walking past his previous handler and their stupefied gang. But, a good chunk of him isn’t too bothered by whatever assumptions they’re making with Tony’s last comment, because, for the first time since he got here, he’s having fun being a normal student.

Even if Tony is _ridiculously_ too cute for his own good.

~*~*~  
The second time he “proposes” is a few years later. Tony is working on his second degree--this time, mechanical engineering--just as James is working on getting into the Master’s program. It’s Christmas break, they’re both home with their respective families, for once, having hit it off very quickly after their first meeting (to everyone’s surprise). They even started dorming together, which works out for both of them; James gets to not worry about living expenses and Tony gets someone to really look out for him.

That’s not to say dealing with Tony isn’t challenging--because Tony is very much a spoiled brat and demands a lot of attention--and there’s a lot of off-the-wall moments--including a lot of uncomfortably barely-legal or outright-illegal experiences that he has to put his foot down to--but, at the heart of it, dealing with Tony’s highs and lows is rewarding in a way he’d never expected it to be. Tony brings out the best and worst in people--even James himself--and he _needs_ James just as much as James needs Tony--as he’s slowly discovered. 

They work well together, share a similar sense of humor, and while James is a stabilizing influence in Tony’s life that he sorely needs, Tony brings so much joy and wonder into James’. He’s always been serious--life as a black son in America tends to suck the child out of you--and especially now that he’s dealing with the stress of AFROTC training and the demands of MIT and being away from home 80% of the year all at once...well, suffice to say, he only fakes his exasperation at Tony’s escapades around half the time.

If nothing else, they make for good stories to share with his family. And he has plenty to share. He talks about Tony often enough now that his momma has that gleam in her eye whenever his name is brought up and his dad thinks of him as another son.

So, when Tony calls, upset, in the middle of dinner, no one makes a fuss when he dashes off to answer him.

“Tony?”

“He _grounded_ me, Rhodey! Me, I’m _nineteen_ and he’s making me stay home while they go on the family vacation _without_ me! It’s Christmas, for god’s sake!” Tony all but wails through the speakers. James heaves a sigh.

“What did you do?”

Curiously, Tony shuts up. If it weren’t for the frustrated breathing on the other end, he would have sworn that Tony hung up on him. “...Tony?” he calls again, quieter.

“I, uh...Howard might have found a ring...in my drawer,” he mumbles into the receiver.

“A ri--but you’re not dating-- _oh_ ,” James cuts off awkwardly, the realization making his mouth dry.

“It was going to be a joke!” Tony immediately splutters, hurrying to explain himself. James can just tell he’s pacing and running his hand through his hair. “I--your parents already think we are--they treat me like family, so I thought it’d be funny if...you know. I know you’re not interested in me like that,” he adds on, so low James wonders if he was meant to hear at all.

James lets it go because he is not ready to have the conversation on _why_ Tony’s “joke” ring could be confused with a real one and he is _absolutely_ not wondering what it looks like.

“Do you want to come over and spend it with us?” he says instead, like the good friend he is.

Tony sighs, so melodramatic that James can easily picture him flopping onto his bed like a Victorian woman. It makes his lips twitch. “No,” he mumbles once again. “It’s okay. I just...I thought he was actually proud of me for once,”

“Yeah,” James says softly, subdued. “I know,” Tony was so excited to go home for this break, convinced that Howard was going to start taking him under his wing and prepping him for takeover of his company in between the festive celebrations. Now, instead, it seems...

“Hey,” he continues, putting as much cheer as possible into his voice to shake them both out of their musing. “What was it you thought you saw at that party last week?”

He could hear Tony’s pout forming. “Rhodey, why are you telling _that_ story?”

“C’mon, Tones, let me have this moment after what I had to put up with,”

Tony sighed. “It was a platypus...I thought I saw a platypus,”

He snickered, memory flashing to the forefront of his mind now that Tony said so. “That’s right, who would even bring a _platypus_ to a toga-party?”

“Rhodey! You’re so mean to me!” Tony really did whine, but playfully this time. “Just for that, it’s gonna be your new nickname, honeybear,”

“Which one, honeybear or platypus?” he teased.

“You know what I meant,” Tony harrumphed. “Now it’s both!”

“I think you’re sending mixed signals,” he said, grin wide.

“ _You’re_ sending mixed signals!” he complained, but James could hear the fondness in his voice. And to confirm it, Tony’s voice was soft and genuine when he added, “Thanks, Rhodes, for not freaking out on me and, y’know,”

James felt his grin grow a little plastic. “That’s what friends are for. Now, go to sleep, kiddo. Things will be better in the morning, I promise,”

“You’re barely two years older than me, old man!” Tony shouted, letting the final click of the phone speak for him. James chuckled to himself, heading back to dinner and trying to think of the best way to spin _that_ particular story without exposing how drunk the two of them had gotten--considering that only _one_ of them was of legal age.

*~*~*  
Things weren’t better in the morning. In fact, James would hazard to say things had gotten much, _much_ worse. His first clue was waking up to insistent--but polite--knocking at 6:37 AM; the second, much more obvious clue, was opening the door to a puffy-eyed and more-than-a-little drunk Tony.

“Is it--fuck--can I come stay-” he sniffed, curling his arms around himself. “ _Rhodey_ , my parents, they--Mamma, è morta,” 

James felt ice in his stomach--because you didn’t have to speak fluent Italian to know what he just said--and before he could say another word, he gathered Tony in his arms for a tight hug that, if he had any say in it, would last forever.

“It’s okay,” he heard himself say, squeezing tighter as he heard the rest of his family tumble down the stairs. He pressed his lips to Tony’s forehead, heart twisting as he realized Tony had started crying silently, shaking as he fell into the embrace fully. “It’s going to be alright, Tones. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you,”

“Momma, what’s--”

“Shh, Lila, let’s go make breakfast sweetie,” he hears his sister hush his niece, directing her into the kitchen with softer murmurings. Tony makes some sort of strangled noise and James shushes him.

“Come to bed with me, Tones, we’ll have a rest for a minute--we don’t need to fall asleep,” he adds, feeling just how tense Tony gets at his offer. “Just some private alone time, yeah? Then we can have some breakfast and face the day together, I promise,”

Tony just rubs his face against James’ shoulder in a way that he took for a nod. “Okay,” he said lightly, scooping him up into his arms--less a testament to his strength and more of the fact that Tony was always light and so easy to carry especially when he’s like this--keeping his face tucked away as he turned towards his room.

‘Is he okay?’ his mom mouthed at him as they passed. James just grimly shook his head. She and his dad looked heartbroken more than anything else and left them to their own devices. Which was great, because Tony was still drunk and more than a little self-destructive as it turns out.

He had barely settled them on his mattress when Tony used his squirrely nature to climb on top of him and start tugging his clothes off. “Tony, what--?”

“Dad was mad because he found out about you, but Dad’s not here, so why not? You said private alone time, I seen--saw that--you like me, too. Good enough to fuck, not enough to marry. ‘S okay, I get it, but I need you, James, _please_ ” he says, shaking fingers struggling with the tie on his pajama pants.

James sighed and sits up to catch his hands. “Tony, you don’t want to do this,”

“I have nothing,” he spat, looking so hopelessly lost. “My parents are dead because my dad can’t stay sober for one minute these days, I can’t take over the company for another couple of years or longer, and you--you won’t let me marry you!”

“I couldn’t marry you even if I wanted to,” James admits softly. Of course, Tony is too oblivious to hear what he means by it.

“Then why won’t you just fuck me?” Tony asks in a furious whisper, tears shining in his glassy eyes. “You have to--I know you’re interested, everyone is. If--If you’re my friend, why won’t you do this for me?”

James could feel himself sharpen even though he knows Tony doesn’t mean it that way. “I will never be that kind of friend, Tony. Don’t you dare put me in the same league as Tiberius Stone,”

Tony looked down, appropriately cowed for the moment. “Sorry,”

“You’re upset,” James says, rubbing his thumb over Tony’s knuckles. “And you’re Anthony Stark, if you didn’t have some kind of meltdown I’d be surprised. I expect this kind of white boy nonsense from you,”

Tony huffed, not quite a laugh but at least far from a sob. “Can we cuddle now, platypus?”

“Yeah, Tony, we can cuddle now,” he said, pulling him back into his arms where he belonged.

Tony changed a lot after his parents died--obviously--but James was surprised by how much he missed his impromptu proposals. Oh, he still made them now and again, but they were always clearly jokes and played off almost immediately with a sad undertone; they were more like an outdated inside joke that wouldn’t die instead of the genuine but bafflingly out of place or nonsequitur suggestions that James secretly loved. And it wasn’t like James could turn it back on him because he still wanted more than anything to fly, and Tony would agree immediately if he thought James was serious--which he’s not sure himself.

~*~*~  
The next time he almost misses it, it’s been so long since Tony made such a declaration and he’s so delirious with relief that they had _finally_ found Tony and didn’t need the body bag that protocol demands be taken on missions like these.

It feels like he’s out of the chopper before it even approaches the ground, running to Tony’s side so that he can be the first one Tony sees after his disappearance.

“How was the ‘fun-vee’?” he calls out, aiming for casual despite how clear it is to them both that he has been practicing this line for months.

Tony’s half-amused, half-resigned wobble of a smile nearly breaks his heart. He can’t help but reach out to grab his shoulder--reassurance for the both of them--and kneel in front of him, continuing softer, “Next time you ride with me, okay? You ride with _me_ ,” Then he pulls Tony--bloody, dirty, but _alive_ Tony--into his arms for a quick hug before letting the rest of the team approach.

He tries not to think too much about the way Tony so passively lets the other members of the rescue team round him up into his seat and secure him for flight. James steals the open seat next to him, glaring everybody else down for a semblance of privacy--not that it was hard to do. He was the commanding officer of the majority here, and he caught whispers of what people said about him during Tony’s extended...stay in Afghanistan. It may not have been his best moment(s) in life but it sure as hell kept everyone off his back.

Tony’s head sinks into his shoulder and James turns a much softer gaze on him. “I’ve got you, Tones, it’s going to be alright. We’re going home,”

“Mm,” Tony sighs, tension still in every line of his body and that _hurts_. “There better be strippers--and this time, you can’t drunkenly chat my ear off while they dance,”

James lets a low quiet chuckle fall for Tony’s ears only. It’s worth it for how Tony finally-- _finally_ as if his laughter convinces him this is not all some fever dream--relaxes at the sound. “You’re lucky if I let you out of my sight for a _second_ after the stunt you pulled,”

“Oh, platypus,” he half-whines, cracking one eye open to look up at James. “Are you _grounding_ me?”

“You’re damn right I’m grounding your rich white-boy ass,” he says, turning his face so that the brush of his lips against Tony’s forehead could be seen as accidental. “Can’t even take a damn vacation right,”

Tony’s answering smile is a lot less shaky but still far from his usual. He snuggles closer into James, as much as their straps will allow, and exhales deeply. His fingers tap rhythmically the same pattern, but he’s asleep by the time James’ mind comes up with what the phrase was supposed to be: -- .- .-. .-. -.-- / -- . 

He can’t hide his smile after that, but he does do his best to swallow it up. It wouldn’t do to ruin his hard-ass reputation so soon. Not when it has its advantages for moments like these.

~*~*~

He waits until things have calmed down. He waits until he has collected bits and pieces of the event from Miss Virginia Potts and Happy Hogan (and he would have tried Natalie Rushman but she dropped off the face of the planet it seems), tries to see what the fuck Tony was thinking, and does his best to ignore what it means that Tony kissed someone else before he confronts him about any of it.

“You should have told me, Tones,”

Tony sighed, fingers going to pinch at the bridge of his nose so James took a step closer, adding, “Didn’t I deserve to know?”

“Of course you did, honeybear,” he said softly, too placatingly. “But you also deserve to find out better than any of the ways I could think of to tell you,”

“So you’d rather keep me in the dark, let me struggle with trying to figure out what’s going on with my best friend this time, while also cleaning up the messes you leave behind because you’re so set on dying by burning every bridge you find?!” He started off calm--well, really just covering up his anger and fear--and gradually grew to just short of a yell. Tony flinched.

“In hindsight, yes, that does sound like a terrible plan--but, to be fair, I was--”

“Don’t!” he put a hand up and Tony cut himself off. The anger he felt boiling inside him must really be visible then; Tony almost never voluntarily shuts up. “Don’t bullshit me, Tony, I’m not...I’m your best friend, man,”

“I know,” Tony said tiredly, not unlike what James was feeling right now. “And I love you, Rhodey--why do you think I couldn’t tell you? I didn’t want to hurt you…”

“That’s not your problem to deal with!” he shakes his head exasperatedly, walking forward to emphasize his point by taking Tony’s hands and squeezing them. “ _Tony_ , do you really think _this_ is what I wanted instead? Don’t you know how much worse it feels to not have a clue that my best friend was dying right before my very eyes because he couldn’t bear to tell me the truth?” 

It wasn’t fair of him to blame Tony for this, but there was a lot of guilt and fear swirling in his head because he had failed Tony by falling for his tricks when he hadn’t done so since MIT. They were drifting apart--must have already drifted apart if James couldn’t read him like he used to even before he knew Tony’s tells and Tony almost _died_. He wasn’t ready to lose him, in any capacity. That’s why it hurts so much to hear Tony mumble in response, “You couldn’t have saved me,”

And James knows how smart Tony is, knows--now--all the calculations and tests he must have done before giving in and he knows it’s only thanks to the impossible, to the creation of a brand new element, that Tony is here at all. 

He swallows the lump that grew in his throat. “I know, I know that,” he said more hoarse than he desired. “But I would have liked the chance to try--to say I did everything in my power to keep you alive even when you, and the whole universe, was conspiring against me. 

“Instead--” his voice cracks and he swallows once more. “Instead, you invited _Pepper_ on a vacation. Why didn’t you let me help?”

He knows as soon as he lets those particular words out of his mouth that he was going to regret it. Tony’s obviously not dumb by any means, but he prays to God that his sheer obliviousness when it comes to interpersonal relations will keep him from drawing the right conclusions. That’s not what this conversation is about--they’re not having _that_ conversation anytime soon.

Tony’s eyes widen a little as his tongue darts out to wet his slightly parted lips. It’s not what he should be focused on at all right now either, but Tony looks so much like his college self in this moment that James’ heart clenches and lets go of the anger. He knew it was a lost cause anyway; he had never been able to stay mad at him.

“Marry me,” Tony all but rasps. “C’mon, James, it’s what you want right?” His heart stops, but Tony continues. “A legal paper proving that I have to tell you the truth for the rest of my days, no matter how ugly, until death do us part?”

“Is that what you think marriage is?” he deflects, hoping Tony can’t hear how fast his heart is beating. Even if Tony missed the nail by an inch, he still used his real name this time. Tony’s serious about this even though he kissed Pepper. James doesn’t know how to process that.

Tony waves him off. “Close enough. I mean, Howard wasn’t--well, I’d be a proper husband to you regardless of what our vows or some piece of paper say,”

Dear God, he was getting warm. “Tony, now’s not--I’m not going to marry you just so you’re forced by social convention to be a better friend to me. Just _be_ a better friend and next time you get into life-or-death trouble, _call_ me,”

Tony smiles a little self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, okay, Rhodey. Sure thing,”

~*~*~

Boy, does he regret making Tony make that promise. 

He answers, knowing exactly who it is without needing to glance at caller ID--one, because Tony always has terrible timing with his calls and two, he’s already been debriefed on the situation in New York. He’s already on his way, would have already been there if he hadn’t literally come off a mission in Hong Kong against suspected terrorists.

“Tony!” he greets enthusiastically; he’s still on an adrenaline high and it’s always good to go into battle with his best friend. “I’m on my way, how’s it looking over there without me, man?”

A pause. Then a tiny clear of the throat. “Uh,” His voice sounds staticy, like the suit’s experiencing turbulence or shorting out. “Not so good, actually, platypus,”

“Wh--Tony, what’s going on? Are you okay? Is it the reactor again?” he shoots out, mind racing. It hasn’t been long enough since the palladium poisoning, it’s too soon for him to be in a life-or-death situation. He reroutes full power to the repulsors in his boots and gauntlets--he has to be in New York _now_.

“There’s, um, not really time,” Fuck, that’s not helping the fear shooting down his spine and curling in his gut. “I just, uh...Look, I’m keeping my promise, honeybear,”

No, no, no, no, no. “Don’t do this to me, Tony,” he pleads. “Not like this,”

“...I’m real sorry it’s gonna end this way, James. It’s not how I wanted--I wish I could have gotten to marry you,”

“I’ll do it!” he blurts. “I’ll marry you, Tony...Tones, _please_...”

But he was too late. Tony either hung up on him or he was forced to--neither a great option.

Okay. Doesn’t matter that these aliens or whatever attacked Earth, his home, _now_ it’s personal.

*~*~*

He gets there late--obviously, the commute was a bitch--so the aliens (or whatever) are already all dead, leaving him with nothing to take his frustration and grief out on. He’s shaking inside the suit, practically vibrating with the effort of restraining himself from breaking down out in the open like this, while he still represents the military.

But then his HUD starts pinging him towards the left, triangulating several signs of life in the otherwise evacuated dead zone. James takes off immediately, literally itching for a fight or some other kind of distraction where a little bit of destruction could be excused.

It brings him to a practically abandoned little shop--were it not for the two owners running around in the back and the band of misfits sitting around, eating in silence. And there was Tony alive--uncomfortable, tired and beaten like a bruised peach--but unequivocally alive. He scrambles to exit out of his suit, torn between pure fury and sheer relief the likes of which he hasn’t known since the last time Tony very nearly almost died (which was only barely two years ago).

Dear God, why is this his life?

Tony perks up once he sees him out of the corner of his eye. He’s already up and out of his seat, the beginnings of a bright, bright smile tugging his lips up before he blinks, recognizing the tight lines and jerky way James is approaching him and turns into something more appropriately sheepish. “Heeeey, Rhodey, guess who didn’t actually die?”

James isn’t amused and is now less than two feet from him. Tony winces. “Oh god, please don’t hit me, I’m still recovering and I swear I was going to call right--”

James pulls him into a rough hug--the urge to punch him in the face very tempting, though--and tries to squeeze the life out of him (it would only serve him right). Unfortunately, or not, Tony just hugs him back as tightly and James presses his lips to Tony’s forehead--working on the other just as compelling urge he had to kiss the living daylights out of him. For several moments, it’s like time has stopped for them and nothing else in the world matters.

Someone makes a polite cough.

Tony squirms, already moving onto the next thing the way his brain always does. But James isn’t ready to let him go--wants to act like a caveman or something and drag him away from these strangers who no doubt did nothing to curb Tony’s self-destructiveness--so he does anyway, but keeps his attention a moment longer and preserving the moment by holding the sides of his face. 

He simply stares for a moment then sighs, “You give me so many grey hairs, Tones,”

Tony cracks a soft, almost shy, smile at that. “Guess it’s a good thing you’re going bald first, old man,”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Do you want me to impose a new bedtime curfew--because it sounds a lot like you’re asking for it,”

“Rhodey, no!” he whines. “Not in front of the Klingons,”

Ah, so that explains a few things about the dynamic of this group of strangers. “Why don’t you introduce me to these people you so kindly invited out to eat before letting me know you weren’t actually dead?”

Tony freezes, then pouts. “Harsh, honeybear,” he says under his breath before gesturing wildly.

“Well, platypus, these are the Avengers--name pending. This, here, is Doctor Bruce Banner--yes, the one who turns into an enormous green rage monster that you’ve probably heard about from Ross’ psycho episodes--”

Banner looks uncomfortable at the attention, but at Ross’ namedrop he visibly starts making an exit route. Tony isn’t very tactful on the best of days, so to see him backpedal almost immediately is actually kind of heartwarming. “Oh, no, Brucey, he’s cool, I swear! Totally anti-Ross team here--anyway, next to him are the amazing spy twins from SHIELD--”

“Isn’t that Natalie?” James interrupts, narrowing his eyes. ‘Klingons’ is looking like an apt metaphor more and more.

For what it’s worth, she doesn’t try to hide it and inclines her head to him. “I am sorry if you think I treated Tony unfairly in the past, but my mission helped save his life--both of yours, actually, James,”

“Colonel Rhodes is just fine, thank you,” he snaps. He’s willing to forgive a lot of things, but none of them have ever been regarding people who have betrayed Tony in any form.

“Rhodey, it’s okay,” Tony murmurs, cuddling into his side like a cat. “I’m over it,”

He doesn’t drop his gaze from ‘Natalie,’ fully intent on making sure the message gets across. He has to bite his lip from saying anything more--he doesn’t want to cause a scene, more for Tony’s benefit than anything else because Tony deserves nice friends--and gives a little wave for Tony to continue anyway.

“Right, well,” he fumbles briefly before returning to his upbeat spirit. “The other half of the duo is one Clint Barton--whom you can’t possibly have issues with because he was literally brainwashed for 90% of everything. Next to them is the lovely recently defrosted, mostly mint-condition Captain America and our very own good alien, the God of Thunder himself.

“Avengers, this is Colonel James Rhodes, the Spock to my Kirk, my very best friend in all of the universe. Oh, there is probably one more person you should meet since he’s the reason for all this mess, we kinda just left him in my Tower on the floor…”

“Loki!” the blond alien--apparently--shouted, rising to his feet and picking up some kind of small hammer to...to fly away.

James sighed and massaged his forehead, even as he went back to his suit to meet this Loki. This is going to be one very weird debrief.

~*~*~

In all of the recent excitement, he’s almost forgotten that, after almost thirty years of silence and poor deflection, Tony would move on--that he _has_ moved on. His joking proposals come less and less frequently to the point where James can’t even remember the last time Tony even offered.

But, in his defense, the only other person Tony seems to desire a serious relationship with (one Miss Virginia “Pepper” Potts), the two are always bouncing between on and off. It’s nothing like their relationship--which has always been a slow, steady thing--so he has, probably unfairly, dismissed any evidence--(the rooftop kiss, the proposed vacation, the living together in his private home in Malibu)--of their romantic association. Plus, his little adventure in stealth rescue with an adorably out-of-his-element (but obviously played up because he’s watched Tony in the shooting range, has seen him hold and assemble guns, and knows he did just fine on his own prior to James’ involvement in this mission) distracted him and made him forget about everything other than how fun it was to be back fighting beside Tony--how good it felt to be the one he relied on for any reason.

It isn’t until he sees Pepper save the day and rescue Tony back--until he hears part of their conversation--that it hits him. Tony may have loved him, they may even still have a deep and profound bond of brotherhood that even James sometimes doesn’t understand, but he’s no longer the one Tony wants to marry.

He should feel relieved. There’s no more need to find excuses to avoid breaking Tony’s heart; no more worrying about Tony causing a scene that would be tough to explain away to his bosses (not that it matters anymore, his job hasn’t been on the line for some time now between his own reputation and DADT being repealed). 

But all James can feel is unending regret.

It’s not a surprise to him that he loves Tony--if he’s being honest with himself, it was practically love at first sight for him no matter how hard he tried to deny it. He knows that he was the one that pushed for them to stay in the purely brotherly realm--Lord knows Tony gave him so many chances for more even if they were all inappropriately timed--so he only has himself to blame for the way his heart aches to be the one Tony’s looking at like that.

Despite what it seems like, given his relationship history with Tony, James isn’t a masochist. He wraps up his job here and prepares himself for getting some much-needed space from the only man he has ever loved.

~*~*~

He keeps some of that space through celebrating the Avengers’ Tower opening. It hurts too much still to hear the way Tony brags about Pepper instead of James, like the way he used to, the way he would have five years ago. If he was the dramatic type--if he was more like _Tony_ \--he would say that he feels like a cadet in college again: unimpressive, devalued, alone in a group of people who should be his peers and friends. So, he keeps his distance--for his own mental state.

But, of course, it’s an Avengers’ party (aka, Tony’s party) so his distance only lasts several drinks after his initial arrival, when most of the uninvited guests have left. It’s basically just the Avengers and Co. now and a half-drunk Tony plasters himself against James and James tries to ignore the way his body lights up at the contact.

“Rhodey,” he whines--it is Tony’s default when drunk, after all--batting at the drink in James’ hand. “You’ve been ignoring me!”

“I have not,” he lies easily, slamming back his shot. He’s gonna need all the help he can get. “You guys didn’t appreciate my stories, so I found people that did. Anyway, you have Pepper to keep you company, right, so what do you need me for?”

He knows he can’t keep the jealousy out. Alcohol makes him reckless that way; depending on his mood, it either makes Tony similarly self-destructive or worse, introspective and emotionally aware for once. With his luck, tonight is the latter version.

He doesn’t exactly move far enough away to detangle himself completely, but Tony does reel back at that with furrowed brows. “She didn’t make it--busy--what’s up with you tonight, honeybear? Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?” he asks before he can stop himself. It’s like he wants to get caught.

“Mean,” Tony pouts. James sighs and pours himself another shot--he so needs it.

Tony actually covers his hand to stop him. “I don’t know what’s going on with you--if, if it’s just been a rough few missions for you lately or if I forgot an anniversary or somethin’--”

James nearly chokes at that but Tony’s earnestness powers through. “--So if I did something wrong, _I’m sorry_ , platypus, but I don’t want to hear you speak about Pepper or yourself like that ever again,”

Tony releases his hand after that and James immediately takes the shot. To think he thought he needed it before.

“I’m sorry,” he says, alcohol a convenient excuse for the audible burning in his throat. “I guess I miss it when it was just us versus the world at parties like these,”

Tony slowly grins. “I think you mean when it was just _you_ interrupting _me_ at parties like these to either drag me out to sober up or do my job,” He shrugs. “I kinda like these better. I’m working on that whole team thing--this is good for me, remember?”

It _is_ good for him. Tony was by no means anything close to the picture painted in his original profile from SHIELD, but he did have a bit of a lone gunslinger problem even before the suit. Tony took on everything by himself once convinced that it was the right thing to do or that it somehow fell into the category of his responsibility because he was the only one who could do it correctly regardless of the danger or impracticality to himself. James honestly does not know how Tony ever survived past high school without his own PA/babysitter--and that was considering his own involvement.

That’s why he can’t say anything--can’t tell him the truth that, really, James is just jealous of how easily the Avengers--and Pepper--have gotten in past the walls that he had to chip away at for years. There are things he knows about Tony only because he was there to bear witness to them. These guys have none of that to worry about and that’s a good thing. It means Tony is healing. But now, because of it, James doesn’t feel like he has a place in this brand new world. He’s not an Avenger--barely even Avenger-adjacent--and he’s definitely no longer Tony’s favourite, so, what is he doing here still?

“Yeah,” he eventually says, trying to keep the bitterness and sadness out of his tone--or, at least enough of it that Tony doesn’t pick up on it. “So why don’t you go hang out with them some more and--and I’ll call a cab. It’s probably time for me to leave anyway. It’s become an Avengers-only kind of party now…”

It’s probably very telling that he’s decided to leave instead of crash somewhere. He hasn’t refused an overnight stay at any of Tony’s places since the day they met. But he’s purposefully not looking at Tony so he can’t tell what kind of reaction he’s getting.

“But honeybear!” he protests, latching back onto him and nuzzling his shoulder. “I _need_ you, I want _you_ to stay. You always have a place here--so, please, will you?”

And--oh, God, he’s making _that_ face--James can never resist that face. It’s been the winner of arguments since Tony existed no doubt. He heaves a sigh and Tony knows he’s won with the way he launches a blinding smile and drags him off to the main couch.

It’s much less awkward than their first meeting--comradery has formed if it’s still a little forced here and there--but there’s a spark of something between them all. And, even though it seems like everything has changed--sitting next to Tony, failing at Thor’s impossible challenge--it almost feels like the two of them are back to their old selves. 

Except there’s still something off--something weird with Tony that’s not entirely because of him. It becomes a little obvious when Ultron happens and everything is a clusterfuck again--just in a new way that’s not altogether all that different from the times before this.

~*~*~

Everything snowballs after that. Ultron’s convoluted plan to take over the world (and destroy it), Tony’s (well, mostly Tony’s) impossible plan that almost doesn’t work, his official unofficial membership with the Avengers, the awful circumstances surrounding Lagos, Tony and Pepper taking a break (again), being slammed with the Sokovia Accords…

He knows immediately that Tony’s going to sign. He might put up a fuss for appearance’s sake, but he’s going to sign if only because responsibility has always been a weakness of his. Plus, Tony has grown up a lot; he knows how to play these kinds of political games to get what he wants with a lot more subtlety since the start of his Iron Man days. Realistically, James knows that a good portion of that maturity comes from Tony being unwilling to drag down others with him even by accident but that still counts as progress for Tony.

So, Tony’s going to sign. Even if he didn’t already make up his mind to sign himself, that is all James needs to be convinced. Because James believes in Tony--believes he still has many miracles left in him--and where he goes, James goes, no question about it. This is the man he loves after all, the only one he ever wants to marry--even though it’s way too late for all of this, it still feels good to admit to himself.

But he doesn’t have time to dwell too long on his realization because the Avengers split down the middle and then there’s the Black Panther and Spider-kid and Clint’s out of retirement and James cannot keep up--until he has all the time in the world to contemplate everything that crosses his mind because he’s free-falling in 200 pounds of dead weight and Tony is...Tony is too far away.

He knows, with dead certainty--ha--that this is probably it. It’s not the first time he’s had this thought run through his mind--138 combat missions is nothing to sneeze at--but this is the first time there’s a weight behind it that chills him. And, worse of all, his suit is dead. He can’t contact Tony to say goodbye. All he can do is close his eyes and pray this isn’t it. Tony’s grief-stricken face--which he has seen far too many instances of to picture clearly--sticks behind his eyes and he just can’t stop from thinking about how destroyed Tony will be, how he wishes they could have been more.

“I’m sorry, Tones...” he says softly to no one just before he hits the ground.

*~*~*

He lives. Tony saved his life--if not his legs, which the jury is still out on--with his pessimistic planning for only every possible bad outcome he can think of. Not that James is complaining; losing his legs is a fair trade in his mind, even if, by association, it means he’s losing his military career. He hasn’t received his official honorable discharge papers yet but everyone knows it’s coming. Still, for Tony’s sake, he refers to his time off as ‘extended vacation’. He knows Tony feels like it’s his fault for being paralyzed--to add the loss of his only dream on top of that would absolutely crush him after the mess that was ‘Civil War’. James doesn’t tell him that it’s okay, that being around Tony these days feels like flying and that’s all he needs. One, because it’s inappropriate--he knows Tony is planning a press release and it’s for damn sure not going to be about Spider-kid joining whatever iteration of Avengers they’re going to be called--and two, he missed his chance.

He needs to be okay with that.

He _is_ okay with that--that’s why he keeps his mouth shut on the poetry flowing in his head whenever he’s around Tony and calls him Tony ‘Stank’ whenever he has the desire to be less-than-platonic instead. Tony doesn’t need James’ ill-timed feelings on top of everything else he’s dealing with.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Tones,” he says, breathing through the pull of the stretches. His nerves might not be able to send the same signals they used to, but the strain and tension of his lower back and leg muscles still exist. Tony counts for him as James struggles with his lungs, rubbing the palms of his hands soothingly over the top of his thighs as his actual therapist watches them in the distance.

“Doesn’t matter, have to do it. No one else can,” he responds in a no-nonsense tone, easing him into a new stretch position.

“Doesn’t mean it’s automatically up to you,” He locks eyes with Tony. “And it especially doesn’t mean you have to invite them into your home indefinitely,”

His words must come out a little tight as Tony settles them into something a little less tight. He says nothing though, casting his gaze on James’ form only. James allows it--for a moment. “What...what does Pepper think?”

That gets a reaction. Tony shoots him an odd look, one he can’t decipher fully--maybe the awkwardness he feels spilled into his tone--but it’s over when he shakes his head. “It has to be me, Rhodey. I-I know what people think of me...what _they_ think of me, so. This is the very least I can do and should do,”

James scoffs, slowly releasing his pose and flopping over onto the floor as he wipes the sweat off his brow. “Well, I’m with you--no, it’s not a request,” he continues, stopping the argument he knows is coming before Tony can build up momentum. “I’m going to be with you the second they get on the plane to come here, and if Rogers or Barnes or any of them try anything, I’m going to punch them in the dick,”

He sees Tony shift around in the corner of his eye and knows he’s doing that thing where he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling too brightly. “Well, they’re coming by a private jet, not a plane, so…”

“Don’t make me punch you too, Mister Stank,” he said, lazily flailing an arm in his direction.

“We good?” Tony turns to ask the physical therapist--Anya, was that her name?--his voice thrown in a different direction. James doesn’t bother to sit up yet, revelling in the feeling of relief after pain.

Most of the time, Tony himself took over since James’ therapy is paired with the revolutionary technology that Tony designed by himself, an untried combination which, of course, means Tony has to do everything and oversee everything. James wouldn’t be surprized if he was also currently working on some type of medical degree in addition to Avengers’ double-duty and his usual Stark Industries workload.

Anya sighs, already resigned to the inevitable having worked with Tony long enough. “Keep doing the exercises, Misters Stank and Rocky. I can see you are in good hands--just do not push too hard,”

James recognizes that fake gasp and corresponding slapping sound and chuckles as he sits up to see it directed at someone else for a change. “How dare you, I would never push my honeybear past his limits,”

Anya rolls her eyes, again used to his dramatics--as is anyone who is around Tony enough. “Was not talking about Colonel Rhodes, Stark. Good luck with them,”

They both watch her walk out in silence and then James turns an amused grin on Tony. “You know, it’s really lucky she signed so many NDA’s or we’d be screwed with how much you like to talk about confidential secrets,”

Tony splutters. “You started it!”

*~*~*

It’s not like he wants to be proven correct, but Tony’s always been innocent in the weirdest ways. Like a puppy with a short attention span and doesn’t quite make the correct associations in their memory but refuses to learn the right ones. He’s always getting into trouble--instigating or escalating the issue more often than not--then getting sad about the consequences, and then going right back to making the same sort of trouble.

The bottom line is that Tony’s desperate for love, can’t handle rejection or personal criticism, and is terrible at picking friends 95% of the time. So, James isn’t surprised that everything goes to shit even with Tony on his best behaviour and T’Challa acting as mediator.

“Do we really have to stay with Stark?” Barton all but whines. “I want to see my family and I don’t trust him not to find a way to fuck that up for me, too,”

Tony fidgets with his tie. He always likes to dress up extra fancy when his suit isn’t nearby (though James forced him to wear at least his bracelet-gauntlet) or when he feels the need to impress--which is both, right now. “I’m not sure exactly what you’re implying but I wouldn’t mess around with your wife and I would _never_ hurt a child,”

Barton finally looks Tony in the eye for the first time today. James doesn’t like it. “Oh yeah? Tell that to Wanda--or maybe that kid you brought to a fucking brawl--what was his name, Spider- _man_?” he sneers.

Tony’s eyes dart to Wanda, fingers twirling red strands idly as she seethes in a corner. James grips his arm rests tighter--he’s the only one actually sitting at the table and is in a tactical disadvantage should anything happen. He hates this.

Tony inhales, shaky, like his hands. “That’s not--I didn’t want us to fight…”

“No, _your_ preferred method is a knife to the back, after all,”

Natasha and T’Challa both move to intercept, but, shockingly, it’s Rogers who barks out, “Knock it off, Clint. We’re here for a reason,”

“Indeed,” T’Challa cuts in this time, looking slightly weary though he masks it well. James understands completely. This has been going on for about a half-hour already and he’s tired of it; T’Challa has been dealing with this on and off for months. “The only reason you have returned to American soil is because Doctor Stark has so kindly wrangled an arrangement for a trial to hear your case,”

“And we’re sure it’s _not_ a trap, how?” The new guy, Shrinky-dink, pipes up.

Tony’s hand goes to his forehead and he takes another, more shaky, breath. “I need a drink, anybody want a drink? I swear it’s not poisoned, but, then again, that’s exactly what you’d expect me to say, huh?” he snaps, and Tony must be really bothered by all this if he’s getting this level of snarky so soon. James starts to rise and follow him, wincing at the effort so soon after a PT appointment, but T’Challa shakes his head and walks out after him.

He wonders how long it’ll take before one of them breaks. Rogers looks like he wants to say something, guilt or regret an uncomfortable weight on his shoulders as he stands by the window with the clearest exit path, somewhat separated from the rest. Barnes is the closest one to him, arms crossed and hiding in the shadows of a corner behind him, like he’s seconds away from jumping out the window. Romanov is in the exact middle, half-perched on a chair close to the head of the table, looking bored though her stance indicates that she’s ready to move in a second if need be. Sam is next to her, off to the side, quiet, contemplative. He hasn’t once backed down when their eyes meet, but in a non-confrontational manner. He seems to be the most level-headed one here, which James can appreciate. The others, Barton, Maximoff and the Incredible Shrinking Giant, are all camped next to each other on the far side of the room, feeding into each other’s hostility. And James is settled in his wheelchair at the table no one is using, back to the door, facing them almost in the center of the room.

It’s Maximoff that breaks the silence. “You are paralyzed, yes?”

“That’s classified,” is all he says, but even that is too much as interest gleams in her eyes. She takes a step forward, posture straightening.

“Stark has destroyed your life, your dreams, and yet you stand with him still?” She pauses and corrects with an entirely false grin, “Metaphorically, of course,”

He knows it’s a taunt, a pathetically weak one at that but James can’t help himself. He crosses his arms and shrugs, lifting an eyebrow. “Metaphorically, I’d stand with him anywhere, but, realistically, that’s none of your fucking business,”

Her grin sharpens as if his word count delights her. “He is sore subject for you, yes?” She cocks her head as if that will help peer into his soul. “How can it be so when you are ‘brothers’?”

Oh, hell no. He isn’t going to deal with her hokey psychic bullshit.

“Listen,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “You wanna hear about supposed ‘brotherhood’ so bad, why don’t you ask Captain America, huh? He’s all gung-ho for friendship and truth and the American way--but only if you’re his best pal, Bucky Barnes. It doesn’t matter that Barnes was a wanted man with a suspected death count of over a hundred assassinations and didn’t come in quietly when he had the chance, it doesn’t matter that one of those was their old war buddy and father of his current buddy--which was also kept secret from him--because _Tony’s_ the real villain, here,”

Rogers’ posture shifts like he’s ready to battle. “Bucky was brainwashed the--”

“Yeah, okay, a really shitty thing happened to him. That’s why his trial is going to be so much different than the rest of yours, because all of you knowingly broke the law and he was a prisoner of war for decades.

“But, you know what could have prevented all of this? A fucking _phone call_ , a simple head’s up--‘Hey, Tony, SHIELD is actually kinda HYDRA and all kinds of messed up shit has happened which includes your parents and my best friend from the War who isn’t actually dead.’ Do you have any idea how much easier this all would have been if you had done the honorable thing and trusted Tony with the truth? I know you two had a rough start, but give him some credit, man. The two of you were friends--he would have done right by you, plain and simple,”

Rogers wisely shuts up and ducks his head.

“And, you,” James turns to glare at Romanov. “You were supposed to be the rational one. He trusted you, and you deliberately went behind his back because the intel changed--which you didn’t share until after. But _Tony’s_ the one who’s a back-stabber,”

“I couldn’t trust that Tony would remain clear-headed at the time. You know he can be rather mercurial when it comes to decisions he’s emotionally invested in,” she tries.

“Oh, you mean the way he was when he finally heard about it, when he put his personal convictions aside to meet up with Rogers and Barnes to stop the ‘threat’? You’re the great super-spy and even you played right into Zemo’s hands. You knew what was on those files, you must have caught some of it when you dumped them all out there in the first place, so you can’t tell me you didn’t suspect something else was up. That’s on you and you know it,”

Romanov doesn’t say anything more.

“Barton, I thought you were a cool guy, but you must have an actual birdbrain to just jump out of retirement at Rogers’ word, ditch your family to operate outside of the law without any of the protection that SHIELD used to offer you and somehow think it’s Tony’s fault you had to deal with the consequences. The same goes for you, Scarlet Witch.

“You complain about Tony’s every tiny wrong-doing--past or present--nothing he does is good enough for you. But you deserve a second, third, and even fourth chance even after you messed up in the field, even after mind-fucking nearly everyone on the team, even after the fact that you willingly joined HYDRA to get revenge. No one’s shoving that into your face 24/7, but you--all of you--have never once given Tony that same level of respect. Nothing he has ever done or will do is enough to make up for his mistakes--which is fine, honestly, because none of you deserve Tony,”

He slowly rises without a wince out of sheer spite and stares them all dead in the eye. “He may be a mess of a human being, but he’s also the best of a human being. He’s so goddamned smart and kind, he does anything and everything for his friends--you being here, in his home, free, is proof of that.

“Tony is light and joy personified--” He’s getting off-track. “--so, _yes_ , Tony is a sore spot for me because you’ve hurt the man I love in ways Stane never could and I’ll never forgive you for that,”

James thinks they’re being too silent, but, at the moment, he doesn’t give a damn what they’re thinking. He’s said his piece, and now it’s time to leave.

He doesn’t get far when he sees Tony, drink in hand forgotten with the other trembling faintly as he covers his mouth. T’Challa is silent but smug beside him and immediately James knows that Tony knows.

He can’t breathe.

“Ah, I think our guests might be more comfortable if I finish explaining the terms of their arrival and show them their rooms,” T’Challa says, swallowing his amusement with grace. “Your presence seems to be somewhat disruptive to our intent,”

“Right,” James responds dumbly, barely able to take his eyes off Tony (who is so still--way too still--aside from his hand and so so quiet). “That seems like a good...idea,” He takes a few slow steps towards the door, towards Tony.

That seems to startle him into awareness. Tony jumps, faintly, brushing down his suit and extends his arm for James to take. He doesn’t refuse. He has a sudden irrational fear that this might be the last time he gets to touch Tony so casually.

They walk to the kitchen area just outside of the meeting room, silence a heavy thing draped around them thickly. James isn’t sure of what to say, doesn’t know where they stand anymore, and Tony seems to be entertaining every possible thought in the universe all at once so seriously that he’s lost all capability of speech.

They sit--or, well, Tony helps James to a seat at the counter and dazedly tops off his drink--the motion no doubt an automatic reflex familiar and comforting seeing as he makes no move to actually take a drink from it.

They stare. Tony’s hands are twitching, tapping away on the onyx countertop but it’s not code--at least none James knows. His eyes are wide and bright, pupils blown in shock. His lips are parted and glossy as his tongue darts out to wet them in preparation for words that never come. The silence has moved to a weight in his chest, squeezing his heart and constricting his lungs. If Tony knows his ace, there’s no point in trying to hide his whole hand from him anymore.

James takes a deep breath--

“I guess we are a lot more like--”

“--Marry me.”

“What?” Tony says reflexively, blinking and letting the glass slip from his hand and bounce on the countertop without cracking before righting itself with minimal spill.

“What?” James starts nearly at the same time. Tony must have rubbed off on him because he did not mean to say that; it was the only thing that came to mind. 

Tony’s lips twitch in a way that could be either good or bad--it’s too soon to tell. “You...want to...marry me?” he repeats, disbelief and incredulity in every pause. 

If his body wasn’t already protesting from earlier, how he’d love to just kiss the emotion off his face completely. Instead, he sucks it up and admits everything. “I know it’s a bad time, you--you’ve got _plans_ and you don’t need this to add to your plate--I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but...I love you, Tones. I always have,”

The twitching lips turn into thin lines and Tony’s eyes get a little more shimmery. Fuck, not good then. His fingers comb his goatee and he gives a helpless wave with the other hand. “I, uh, I thought you were hopelessly straight. You made me--” His slow inhale is audible. “James, you told me ‘no’ _so many_ times and _now_ you’re asking me?” Tony’s voice cracks and he turns away so that only the barest of his profile can be seen.

Anya is going to kill him.

He gets up anyway and takes those excruciating steps to get in front of Tony. It’s a testament to how emotionally compromised he is that Tony doesn’t immediately stop him, much less notice until he’s right there. James wraps his arms loosely around his waist and Tony doesn’t refuse--just tenses further and looks away.

“I know,” James whispers, regret filling his eyes. “I’m sorry, Tony, I’m _so sorry_ for hurting you, it’s not what I meant to--”

Tony’s laugh is bitter and mean, especially when he’s still refusing to look at him. “What did you mean then?” he asks, sibilant in his hushed volume. “ _How_ the _fuck_ am I supposed to take rejection over and over any way other than as total rejection? _Rhodey_...you-you _hurt_ me,”

Aw, the kid just wants to break his heart. He swallows thickly and squeezes his hips. “I _know_ , Tony, and nothing I can do will make up for it. You don’t know how much I regret not saying ‘yes’ sooner,”

“So why didn’t you?” He looks up after his soft and quiet words, eyes red even though no tears have escaped (yet) and James can’t take that he’s the cause. “Why didn’t you _ever_ say ‘yes,’ or even just--fuck--‘lemme think about it,’ so I would-I would know I had a _chance_?”

James takes another deep breath. “At first, we were too young and I didn’t know you...wasn’t sure I was into guys that seriously. Saying ‘yes’ would have been a commitment we both weren’t ready for--even you have to admit that,” 

Tony shrugs, partly, James knows, to be contrary. “I would’ve tried,”

But James knows this, too, and he knows with certainty that it would have been a disaster because of just how much Tony would have tried to keep the two of them together from that age. He knows they’d get outed eventually and James’ career would be over and Tony would have never gotten this far so quickly--if at all--and they’d both be miserable about it and hate what once was so pure. He doesn’t say any of that because he knows Tony knows it too, can probably even picture it more accurately.

“Then, it was bad timing. I wasn’t going to marry you when you’re upset, drunk off your ass, or because you very nearly died,” He blows out something that’s half a sigh and half a self-deprecating laugh. “But...Tony, I stopped saying ‘no’ after the palladium poisoning...”

“What?!” His eyes flickered back and forth, reviewing memories--he didn’t think Tony’s eyes could get wider. “That’s not--I would remember if you said ‘yes’!”

James half-smiles. “If you had listened closer, you would have heard my lame ass excuses and deflections for what they were...but it doesn’t matter because you’re with Pepper now, you’ve been with her for years. I know you’re getting engaged, Tony, and I’m not going to get in between that,”

He sighs and lets go of Tony, ignoring the way his chest aches at the physical and metaphorical separation between them. He puts one hand out on the countertop to steady himself. His knees have started to shake. “I’m...happy for you, Tones. You deserve someone who’ll say ‘yes’ the first time around,”

Tony flounders for a moment, looking everywhere, opening and closing his mouth, before staring determinedly into James’ eyes. “I love Pepper--”

James can’t help the wince at his forceful declaration.

“No! That’s not--” he groans, face-palming as he collects his thoughts. James hears him mutter something about being ‘tongue-tied’ under his breath.

“What I _meant_ to say is that Pepper may be my Edith Keeler, but _you’re_ my Spock,” he finishes earnestly.

James furrows his brows. He can generally follow Tony’s need to insert Star Trek into his life, but he doesn’t have the deeper working knowledge that Tony does. “My place is at your side and...you’d sacrifice her to stop HYDRA?”

Tony’s smile is soft--which infuses James’ soul with warmth, especially in contrast to earlier. “Close,” He closes the distance and plays with the hem of James’ shirt. “What I mean is, Pepper has a special place in my heart--but we’re not good for each other like that. You’re the one I need, you’re the _only_ one I’ve ever needed,” 

And then Tony’s hands slip into his pants and his lips press against his and everything is right in the world.

“For the record,” Tony breathes in between kisses. “That was an incredibly white boy rom-com thing to do. I’m disappointed in you, Mister Spock,”

James can’t help the stupid fond grin he feels grow on his face. “Do shut up...Captain,”

Tony throws his head back and laughs. James pulls him closer, delighting in every aspect of his silly nerdy white boy. “Marry me, for real,” Tony barks out somewhere in between, joy and happiness making laugh lines appear at the corners of his eyes to finally replace the lines of stress and guilt that had burdened his brow for the past several weeks.

This, James thinks, is definitely (finally) the right reason.


End file.
